


Where the dandylions play

by tommyinnit



Series: saline solution to all your problems [2]
Category: Minecraft (Video Game)
Genre: Comfort/Angst, Gen, Shapeshifter Alexis | Quackity, Toby Smith | Tubbo is Not Okay, based off stream on 03/01/21, no beta we die like tommyinnit, quackity is trying his best, spoiler heavy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-02
Updated: 2021-03-02
Packaged: 2021-03-14 18:28:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,713
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29796051
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tommyinnit/pseuds/tommyinnit
Summary: Tubbo, manic and desperate, mistakes Quackity for Tommy and Quackity has to help Tubbo through his grief.-title from the song "where the dandylions play"
Relationships: Alexis | Quackity & Toby Smith | Tubbo
Series: saline solution to all your problems [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2060574
Comments: 4
Kudos: 57





	Where the dandylions play

**Author's Note:**

> tw for mentions of suicide attempts and manipulation. also massive spoilers ahead for the stream on 03/01/2021!!

The violent hug had taken Quackity back by surprise. It startled him into a quiet state unlike himself, a primal fear of the consequences of his misdeeds and sins weaving his bitter end sickly and stiffening every muscle in his body, and the sharp hooves that dug into his skin had forced his mouth shut. The quiet, quiet forest only served to exacerbate the anxiety; it’s too quiet. His ambusher was too quiet. He couldn’t even make out his attacker. The grip was getting tighter.

A familiar knot leaves Quackity mumbling prayers. Was it Techno that’s ambushed him? would’ve mouthed off some sanctimonious one-liner or something as obnoxious already. Fundy? He wouldn’t have any reason to ambush him like this.

His empty head spun round and his breath was getting unsteady, something he could barely hide. Even if Quackity wanted to fight back, he couldn’t. The striking fear had him under key and lock. He was paralysed. He could feel his heart trash against his ribs, sweat building up on his forehead, and his instincts screaming at him to do something, anything.

In the end, Quackity stood still, not even daring to move.

In his plight, Quackity started to whimper, or so he thought. The vice grip around his waist started to wane, shaking wildly, trembling despite Quackity not struggling against the hug. Even though he’s the one in their grasp, Quackity felt like the ambusher. Their hug grew tighter, fingers digging into his tracksuit even further, though the fear that encapsulated the shapeshifter had left. His attacker wasn’t really his attacker. There was a cloy sentiment of sorts in their endeavour, or more precisely relief riddled with a bad case of desperation. There wasn’t any malice, but it was rather pathetic.

Still, Quackity didn’t want to speak yet. He wants to know.

“To-Tommy. I kn-new you were alive. I knew it. I thought you were dead.” A familiar voice hiccups through choked sobs, now feeling hair and a pair of undeveloped horns poke at his back. “You can’t just leave me. We were supposed to stick together, y’know? Please don’t leave me.”

It then clicked for the shapeshifter; Tommy died and Tubbo, in denial, had mistaken him for Tommy. Debating whether or not he should take umbrage at being mistaken for Tommy, he couldn’t deny that seeing Tubbo in such a pathetic state did bum him out a little. 

Then something hit him. What should he do? Being mistaken for a dead kid by someone you kinda know isn’t really a common situation that no gold standard or cold cash could provide him a solution for. Should he pretend to be Tommy just for Tubbo’s sake or tell him the truth? Quackity is a shapeshifter after all.

Tubbo was palming at Quackity’s stomach, head pressed unto his back. “You know you can’t just scare me like that, Tommy.” The mere mention of Tommy’s name just made Quackity’s stomach sink from guilt. “I should’ve been there at the prison. With you. I should’ve known what you went through.”

He’s got to tell Tubbo the truth. It’s just not right to pretend to be his dead best friend to feed him false hope. Besides, he’s almost an adult. Tubbo will get over it. Quackity, trying to lift Tubbo’s arms off of him, sheepishly murmurs, “Tubbo, I-”

“It’s fine, Tommy. You don’t have to blame yourself. It’s my fault. I really should have known.” 

Oh god. Just as Quackity thought it couldn’t get worse, Tubbo’s blaming himself for Tommy’s death. Quackity can’t just leave him alone like this. Tubbo needs an intervention, and quick. Carefully taking on the form as Tommy, he tries his best to mimic the blonde’s voice. This is the only way he’s gonna be able to knock some sense into Tubbo.

Hovering his hand over the ram hybrid’s hooves, Quackity murmurs, “Tubbo, you’re not at fault for any of this-”

As if stepping on a landmine, Tubbo backs off hurriedly, apprehensive and hostile. Maybe his altruistic deed wasn’t as altruistic as Quackity had thought it’d be. Actually, maybe it’s pretty fucked up, and Quackity had just fucked things up a lot more than he should’ve. He really should’ve just confessed right there and then but he’s in too deep now.

Quackity turns around with his back facing the moon, still worried that Tubbo might just catch on. The flower field is so infuriatingly beautiful tonight. Tubbo crushes a few dandelions as his spite edds throughout the quiet fields, partially voluntarily pulling Quackity into the eye of the hurricane. The clear self-loathing that creases Tubbo face hurts. The stress, misery and regret distorted into a raw, visceral pain, one he subjected himself to. It feels like a knife just pierced his gut looking at how pained he is.

“I am, Tommy! Stop trying to do this - moving the blame off of me thing! We both know that I should’ve at least checked up on you! I was so caught up with my own life that I just forgot about you!” Tubbo’s trying to scream through his tears, but it ends up sounding more like whimpering. “And to find out what happened to you during exile through _Sam?_ All that after you’ve- you- whatever! I should’ve seen the hints! I should’ve been there for you!”

Dancing through the thin line which is morality, Quackity tries his best not to speak for Tommy, but rather as himself though not entirely, which adds to the convoluted mess he finds himself in. Not that he could even - Quackity barely even knows what happened during exile, let alone why it’s important.

“Tubbo, the thing is that you can’t always know everything! Dream forced you to exile T- uh, me! He threatened L’Manberg and forced you to decide between me or your country, and I was the one who forced that decision!”

Tubbo hissed. “I should’ve picked you over the country!”

“You’re missing the point here! You’re not entirely at fault for my exile, Tubbo. You were forced to exile me!”

“I wasn’t forced to not visit you during the exile though!”

“You had a country to run! I’m kind of insulted that you think I wouldn’t understand that you were busy. And besides, it wasn’t even that bad-”

“Now you’re literally lying to make me feel better! Dream manipulated you! You were depressed because of the exile, and you tried to kill yourself twice!”

Quackity’s blood ran ice cold. The thought of Tommy enduring all that made the bile rise from his stomach and to the back of his throat, a bitter feeling intertwined with his guilt now leaving his knees weak. A volley of why leaves him stunned; Why Tommy, why did he not say anything, why did Dream do this to him, why, why, why. Like a string snapping, he felt like his heart had burst, and those damning questions of the flock’s morality he’d suppressed now swarmed him.

Quackity'd always prided himself on his skeptical nature. He knew that they shouldn’t be forcing teens into war and then blaming them for being too violent, or forcing them into heavy responsibilities and expecting them to make wise decisions, but Quackity never really delved further into it. He'd dwell on it just to push it back further into his conscious. Until now. Besides, Quackity would be a hypocrite to scrutinise others for this. He’s the same.

But there’s one thing that still rings true even throughout the muddle; neither Tommy nor Tubbo deserved what happened to them.

Brushing the tears streaming down his face, Tubbo pleads softly, weak. “Tommy, please. You don’t have to do this.”

Quackity inhales sharply through his teeth, hoping that what he says might help the boy sleep at night. “Tubbo, I-I just want you to forgive yourself.”

“Forgive,” Tubbo pauses, almost taken aback. “Myself?”

“Yeah. We both fucked up in the past, I’ll admit that, but the past is the past. You’re never going to be happy if you keep blaming yourself for it, y’know? If you want to truly make up for it, you should start off by forgiving yourself ‘cause I already forgive you for all that.”

Even after doing it before, Quackity still feels awful speaking for Tommy, especially after Tubbo’s face lights up. He’s going to have to make it up to Tubbo for all this later.

“You… forgive me? But I just left you to die in there.”

Quackity has made serious progress. Tubbo can now actually admit that Tommy is dead, or in the very least say it. At least he wouldn’t have to pretend that Tommy’s alive, and he can play the part of a ghost which relieves some of the weight on the shapeshifter’s mind. He walks over to Tubbo, placing his hand on his shoulder. “You didn’t, Tubbo. Redirect your anger onto something else. Someone else. The person you should be blaming instead.”

“Wait, you don’t mean Dream, do you?”

Tubbo’s sharp. “Who else could I have meant? He killed me afterall. All three times.”

“I- I see.” Tubbo breathes in sharply trying his best to collect his thoughts and self. He’s doing much better than before, a true testament to how strong the boy really is. No longer is he snivelling or wailing his heart out but instead he stands resolute and calm, which Quackity commends him for.

Tubbo tugs on Quackity’s shirt. “Can you just do something for me before you go, Tommy?”

Were ghosts supposed to disappear after delivering a big sentimental speech? Quackity wouldn't know given his limited interactions with the resident ghost. And the request bugged him as well. Bracing for impact, Quackity acquiesces, not really sure what Tubbo’s going to ask for.

Luckily, it wasn’t a big request. Tubbo pulls him in close for a hug, feeling the welling tears stain his clothes as his fingers curl tight around his back. Unlike earlier, it didn’t feel like Tubbo was clinging on for dear life. It was much softer, but he held on tight. Quackity’s conscious felt a bit better seeing the boy having made peace with himself, letting himself rest.

“I’m sorry, Tommy.” His trembling voice is muffled by his shirt and Quackity slowly pats his back. “I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t be, Tubbo. I forgive you.”


End file.
